Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
And a spooked Dom worried him.
Chapter Five
Lightning streaked across the dark sky, followed by a deep roll of thunder. Dom picked up his pace down the sidewalk, hands fisted at his sides. He wanted to get inside this next club before the rain broke free. The summer air had been thick and humid earlier in the day; then it had cooled before a brisk wind had picked up. A storm was about to dump buckets of water on the city.
Red neon lit the night, shining the name Jubilee. It would make his third club of the night, but he had a feeling that he’d get lucky with this one. Jubilee had opened a little more than a year ago, but the owner refused to pay for a decent security staff. The place had turned into a gun and knife club in a matter of weeks. Fights broke out regularly, and the place had been featured on the news several times due to violence that occurred in or around it.
Dom had popped by one time a few months after it opened, then swore he’d never be back. He liked a place that got a little rowdy, but he didn’t want to worry about getting knifed in the back because someone didn’t like his shirt.
He might not have seen his brother in years, but he was sure James hadn’t changed that much. Jubilee was a good fit for him. The kind of place where he could shoot off his mouth without people taking any real notice of it. Where he could push people around and be a big shot, if that was what he wanted that night.
Stepping inside, Dom gave a curt nod to the doorman, who barely glanced up from his phone to see Dom as he walked by. Barely aware of his surroundings, he wasn’t checking IDs. Dom forced his thoughts away from the guy and stepped into the main bar. Music blared out from speakers spread around the dimly lit club. There was a little more light at the bar, where a pair of bartenders were furiously working to keep up with drink orders as customers stood nearly three-deep at the scarred oak.
A dance floor occupied the middle of the club, and it was packed with people sweating and gyrating in the intensely hot building. Dom could already feel his T-shirt starting to stick to his back as sweat ran down his spine. Not only was the owner hiring shit security, but he also wasn’t willing to put in adequate air conditioning to keep up with the number of bodies filling the small space.
Fuck it. He had to find James. His brother knew he was alive and where he was living. If he didn’t face him, James could quickly infiltrate the rest of his life. Dom didn’t want to risk the lives of his friends. He also didn’t want to risk the truth of his past getting out. Abe couldn’t know. Not yet. Preferably not ever, but definitely not yet.
Dom glanced over the customers at the bar, but it was easy to see that there was no one there resembling his brother. Frowning, he turned away and edged toward the dance floor. James had liked to dance a bit, mostly when he was completely lit and celebrating a successful job. There was still no sign of him among the people dancing to the throbbing beat of the music. Strobe lights flashed and colored lights swirled in a hypnotic kaleidoscope, but it wasn’t enough to distract him from seeking his target.
Rowe had trained them for these kinds of situations, showed them how to stay aware in a dark, crowded place with seemingly endless threats all around them. Of course, Rowe’s first bit of advice was to always get the package out of that situation as quickly as possible, but clients regularly refused to live a cloistered life just to make things easy on their bodyguard.
Confident that James wasn’t on the dance floor, Dom sidled through the throng of people to the far wall. If he remembered correctly, there were several booths and tables along the back wall of the place and then a pool table in the back room. He edged along the rough brick wall, trying to see around the partiers, when his heart lurched in his chest.
James.
It was like looking in a mirror. They were nearly identical. Only the scar running down the left side of Dom’s face marked their difference. He hadn’t been on an official job when it happened. The explosion at the house where local Instagram celebrity Geoffrey Ralse had been held had caught him by surprise, resulting in several scars running down the left side of his body. His first thought when he’d realized the scars were a permanent part of his appearance was relief. For the first time in his life, he knew he was different from his brother. Piercings and tattoos could be mimicked, but the scars made him unique.